


Slipped Through the Cracks

by maywemeetagainlove



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Bella curses, Bella is OOC, Bella is a cursing sailor, F/M, I just want to make sure I have all trigger warnings there, Jacob is a bit OOC, Suicidal Thoughts, conversation about past suicidal attempt, like a lot, suicide ideation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-06
Updated: 2021-02-06
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:55:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,685
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29246919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maywemeetagainlove/pseuds/maywemeetagainlove
Summary: AU. Bella is stuck in a psychiatric ward of a hospital in Washington. She has no desire to be there and can't wait to get out, convinced everyone around her is cuckoo, and not just the patients. What happens when she meets Jacob Black?
Relationships: Edward Cullen/Bella Swan, Jacob Black/Bella Swan
Comments: 1
Kudos: 6





	Slipped Through the Cracks

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Bella is OOC in this as is Jacob. Bella has a lot of anger and she is one filthy-mouthed sailor, just a warning. 
> 
> Trigger warning: mention of past suicide attempt, suicidal ideation, and suicidal thoughts are present in this story. If this will bother you or make you uncomfortable in any way, please do not read.
> 
> For those who might question it, yes an observation window into a room for suicide watch in a psychiatric ward is a real thing. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Everything (except the OC's) belongs to Stephenie Meyer, the creator of Twilight.

**BPOV**

I shifted nervously in the seat. I really had no fucking desire to be here. Why the hell was I here again?

Oh. Right. Because I wasn't given a choice. Nope. No fucking choice.

I chewed on my thumbnail, watching the old man as he spoke, explaining what he was doing here. I had no fucking clue. I wasn't really paying attention. I was just thinking back to when I could go to my room and read my fucking book.

Eight more weeks they tell me. Eight more. Yeah, we'll see. Until then it's art therapy and group therapy hour with these crazy dipshits. People who truly belong here. Not me. If my father wasn't such a gigantic asshole, I wouldn't even be in this mess to begin with. But whatever.

My eyes dart to the clock, thinking that if the old man would go on for ten more minutes, I'd be scot free. But where he had droned on and on about something to do with his grown kids for the last twenty minutes, all of a sudden, he rushed through to the end. I dropped my thumb along with my mouth. What the fuck?

Sure enough, I checked the clock. Ten more fucking minutes. I turned back to the old man who was smiling broadly at me.  _ Yeah, fuck you, too. _

And then I heard the false cheeriness in the bitch's voice who shall remain known as the group therapy counselor. "Bella. Your turn."

I sighed heavily and turned to stare at her. Her fake ass smile was plastered onto her face, almost daring me to refuse her.

I cleared my throat annoyingly loud, smirking when I noticed the wincing discomfort of the old man next to me.  _ Serves you right, jackass.  _ "You know, we only have ten minutes left. Can't we just wait until tomorrow?"

Her green eyes narrowed at me in disapproval. "Have you been watching the clock, Bella?"

I wanted to roll my eyes but refrained from doing it because she hated it if I showed any _ insubordination _ to her in front of the other patients as she so kindly told me last time I did. Right before I got a needle shoved up my arm.

"No,  _ Jessica _ , can't say that I was. I just somehow know there's ten minutes left. Must be that sixth sense I hear you guys all talking about. What did you guys call it? Intuition. That's right. It's my intuition that tells me there's only ten minutes left and aw shucks, what a pity." I mean, seriously, what the fuck am I doing here with these idiots?

Jessica narrowed her eyes even further. "Why, Bella, it sounds like you're being awfully hostile today. Are you in need of something to help relax you?" Which really meant, 'do you need something to chill you the fuck out'?

I took a deep breath and stared the bitch down. "Nope."

"Good. I'm glad to hear it. Now, would you like to share the reason you're here with the rest of us as Don just did?" An orderly stepped closer to the group, ready to intercede should I refuse. Again.

I gulped quietly, not wanting to go through  _ that _ shit again, and sat up in my seat, crossing my legs. "Sure."

Jessica smiled in satisfaction, knowing I was cornered and had no choice but to give her what she wanted. Fucking whore.

I licked my lips and cast my eyes down, opening my mouth to begin spinning my tale of woe when a deep baritone interrupted me. "Excuse me, Ms. Stanley, we have a new patient that Dr. Cullen would like added to your group."

I looked up to see one of the orderlies with his hand gripping the shoulder of a boy who looked no older than me. Maybe even younger. He had a shock of black hair sitting on his head, short but shaggy. He had russet skin and the darkest brown eyes I had ever seen which he kept glued to the ground. His handsome face was contorted into a vicious scowl. His large hands were at his sides. 

Jessica perked up and visibly brightened. Of course. Someone else to torture, a new play thing. "Of course, Joe. Thank you for bringing him. Who de we have here?"

She gestured to the orderly who had been staring me down and he reluctantly broke away and grabbed a free chair, placing it in between Susan and Frank. Yep, I knew all their fucking names now, much to my chagrin.

Joe handed her the file in his other hand and Jessica snatched it like a kid on Christmas morning getting her first gift from Santa. This woman was fucking sick. I watched as she opened it and scanned it quickly before closing it and smiling widely. Psycho. "Please, Jacob, have a seat and join us."

The boy named Jacob didn't move, even when Joe's hand squeezed his shoulder tightly and moved him forward. His face didn't change but eventually he went where Joe's hand led him and he sat down. He didn't make any eye contact, just sat there, slumped in the seat.

Joe gave a stiff nod to Jessica and then turned around, nodding to Tyler, the orderly who had been watching me. Joe left and Tyler took up position behind Jacob, switching his fixation from me onto the boy instead.

"So, Jacob, what brings you here?"

Jessica had her elbows on her knees and she was hunched over, eager as could fucking be. He was like a new doll she had gotten and she was waiting for it to perform and entertain her. God, she made me fucking sick.

Jacob didn't say anything, didn't look up, didn't move.

"Jacob, the idea of group therapy is to share your experience in a group of people who are supportive and can relate to those experiences. This is a safe environment and we're here to help. Now, something happened that brought you here or else you wouldn't be sitting here right now." The woman was fucking Einstein herself. How keenly observant of her. "So, Jacob, tell me, tell  _ us _ , what happened?"

Nothing.

"Don't be afraid, Jacob. We're all here to help. Trust me." I loved how she kept slipping into the singular. Me, me, me. The bitch was so not here to help us. She just wanted to tie us down to a table, cutting us open, dissecting us, finding our raw vulnerability and holding it up for you and the world to see. Who the hell was she kidding? Group counselor, my ass.

Jessica sighed in disappointment. "Jacob, I understand that you’ve recently just arrived and it's your first time in this group. But, I'm asking you to tell me what's going on."

Still nothing.

Jessica's lips pursed angrily and she nodded to Tyler behind him. Tyler nodded back and stood up, inclining his head towards Jacob to the other orderly sitting behind Jessica. 

I don't know what the fuck happened or why but suddenly I panicked. I couldn't let what happened to me happen to this boy. I didn't want him to go through that. And fuck it all to hell if I was going to sit back and watch. "Wait!"

All eyes turned on me.

I wore a disgusted frown on my face. "Isn't it  _ my _ turn?" I didn't really give a fuck about that. I didn't ever want it to be my fucking turn. But, it might deter the Wicked Witch Of the West sitting across from me, wide-eyed. I crossed my arms at her, as if to say 'Well?'

A minute passed and then a slow approving (creepy) smile spread across her disgusting face. "Why, yes, Bella. You're right. It was your turn and I rudely interrupted. My apologies."

The gung ho orderlies looked at one another and then returned to their seats, clearly pissed that they had missed an opportunity to harass another patient. Fuck them. Cocksuckers.

Jessica rested her chin on her hand and watched me with fascination, convinced her  _ methods _ were working on me, no doubt. Yeah, right. 

I took a deep breath and sat back in my chair, arms crossed tighter over my chest as if I could keep myself from falling apart. I really did not want to go through with this. I had no desire to relive everything. But it seemed I had no choice. "Well, I....I don't really know where to begin." I kept my eyes trained on the disgusting brown and white carpet in front of me.

"That's okay, Bella. Why don't you start from the very beginning of what brought you here today? Maybe what brought you here to the hospital?"

I snorted quietly and lightly shook my head. Seriously, the bitch needed to be hit with a bus or something. Not once, not twice. Many, many times. I took another deep breath and just decided to go for it. 

But as I opened my mouth, Jessica let out a sad sigh. "I'm sorry, Bella, but we'll have to stop there. Our session is now over and I'll see you all on Wednesday. Bella, I'll _make_ _sure_ you start us off next time."

I smiled to myself as I heard her implied threat. I was sure she would. The bitch wasn’t letting me leave here without getting a word out of me. Whatever. It's not like I cared really. Hopefully, I'd just be numb during the whole damn thing, give her what she wanted, make the doc happy, and get the fuck out of here. So I could get a job, make the most money I fucking could and get the hell away from Charlie as far as I could. And Renee. Fuck that shit.

Everyone else got up and I sighed angrily, about to do the same when my eyes lifted to catch a dark pair of eyes watching me. They were almost piercing, those eyes, and he was shooting them straight into me. He was still scowling and almost looked like he wanted to take my head off. I couldn't understand it. Maybe Tyler and that other orderly, Eric, should have taken him to be sedated. Yep, I knew the fucking orderlies by name now, that's how  _ popular _ I was.

He glared at me murderously and for the first time ever, I started to wonder why he, another patient, was in here. 

A hand clapped him on the shoulder, Tyler's, and gripped it tightly, urging him to his feet. This time he didn't fight it and kept glaring at me until they both turned to walk away. I scoffed. What the fucking hell was that kid's problem? Whatever. I couldn't be bothered. I just hoped he didn't stab me in my sleep because that would suck. Not the way I planned on going, if you know what I mean.

I shook it off and slowly stood up, making my way back to my room. I was relieved once I closed the door behind me and let out a breath. God, I couldn't wait to get the fuck out of here. I wanted nothing more than to curl up on my box of a bed and go to sleep. But the nurses would rap on the window reminding me that I was not allowed to nap during the day, not unless they were enforcing one on me medically. After all, it might mess up my sleeping schedule. Perish the thought.

I shuffled to my bed, ignoring the nurses giving me cheery smiles from behind the plexiglass window, lifted the book off of my makeshift hospital tray night table and curled up anyway. I just didn't fall asleep. Instead, I sought sanctuary in a world of southern accents and first-time lawyers taking on cases against huge insurance companies. That world seemed so much simpler than mine.

I was so lost in it, I didn't even hear my door open. I didn't hear the footsteps come closer to my bed. I jumped when I heard a voice next to me, though.

"John Grisham, huh?"

I glanced up to see the boy from before staring down at me. A quick scan around the room indicated to me that my door was closed and there wasn't a single nurse watching me, only two sitting at the desk, engrossed in their conversation, turned  _ away _ from me. His hands were in tight fists at his side and I could see he was tensed. His dark eyes bore into me and his face hadn't lost any of the malice from before. I wondered if I gathered up every ounce of strength I had and pushed him back hard, could I knock him down and make it to the window to bang on it? Would the nurses actually help me or would they just let things continue, knowing I had no aversion to death?

He sat down on the bed by my feet, facing me and on instinct, I pulled my legs in tighter to my body, closing my book and holding it against my chest. He watched me and glared at me even harder. "I make you nervous." It wasn't a question.

I shook my head. I couldn't speak because there was no way in hell a pipsqueak wasn't coming out if I did.

He trailed his hand up the blanket, getting nearer and nearer to my foot when I pulled my legs in tighter. He snorted and pulled away. "Yes, I do." He turned to look towards the door. 

I snuck a glance at the window, still no one was watching me. What the fuck? Now all of a sudden they decide to leave me alone and give me my privacy?

"Why?"

His question brought me back to him. He slowly turned his head to look at me. 

My mouth spoke on my behalf without me giving permission for it to do so. "Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because you look like you want to kill me."

He arched a brow.

I didn't move.

A small smile, a fucking smile, played about his lips and he turned away. "That's not what I meant. I mean--" He turned to face me, his smile gone, but his eyes a bit...softer than before. "Why did you do that in there?"

I stared in disbelief at the crazy loon. That's what he was. No different than the rest. "Do what?"

He inclined his head towards the door. "Distract them in there."

Oh shit. This was so not what I needed. I admit, I had a moment of weakness, an empathetic moment (and empathy equals weakness) and I had created a diversion on his behalf. But that didn't mean I would do it again. It didn't mean that I cared or even wanted to get to know this kid. He needed to know that. Right now. My sense of self-preservation lost out in that battle. 

"Look, I don't know what you're talking about. I didn't do anything. I was supposed to go and you interrupted me. So, don't go thinking I'm here to help you or listen to your problems or here for some bullshit nookie on the side. Got it?" He stared at me in amusement. My anger only raged further. "I'm serious. Just get the fuck out of my room and don't bother me again."

I opened my book and pretended to be engrossed in it once more, willing the psycho to just up and leave, writing me off as the crazy bitch I portrayed well in this place. But it seemed that he was only here to torment me.

"What's the window for?"

I lowered my book, glaring at him. He was definitely fucking loony. He had to be. And he's in here with me. Great.

He stared at me with that same amusement from before and I wanted so much to knock it off his face. But he was bigger than me and definitely nutso, not a good combination. I'd never win.

"What do you think, genius?"

That small smile played upon his face again, turning into a taunting smirk. "You're awfully hostile for such a young beautiful girl as yourself."

I rolled my eyes and went back to my book. "So, they tell me. Every time they tie me down and knock me out."

His hand appeared in the middle of the page and he snatched my book away.

"Hey!" Okay, now I was fuming mad. Not only had this wackjob come into my room, scared the living shit out of me, made my life flash before my eyes at least three times in two minutes, made assumptions about things he had no right to assume, but now he had taken my book away from me. I was getting fucking pissed. "Give that back."

His eyes flashed in challenge as he parked it in his lap. Oh, great. Yeah,  _ now _ I want that book back. Guess it's back to the 70's sci-fi thriller I had found in the bookcase a couple of days ago, that I had gratefully tossed back when I found my salvation in John Grisham. But, no, now Psycho Boy had to ruin that for me, too. Crazy fucker.

"So, that's why you did that. You didn't want that to happen to me."

I seethed at him. This kid had some fucking nerve. "I told you. I didn't do shit. You came in during my turn and took the attention away from me. It pissed me off and that's it. Now, give that back!"

He stood up off the bed, holding the book out of reach and kept studying me with those freakish brown eyes of his. What the hell? "You don't seem like someone who likes the spotlight. I think you're lying."

I sighed and rolled my eyes, reaching out my hand. "Whatever. Fine, then. I'm lying. Can I have my book back, please?" I decided to try to butter him up by switching to polite and slightly begging.

He didn't cave, the bastard. "Tell me what the window's for."

I sighed again and crossed my arms, sitting back against the bed, knowing he wasn't going to let up. Oh yes, I pouted. This was not where I fucking wanted to be, never mind with someone I didn't want to fucking be here with.

"Tell me and I'll give it back to you."

I glared at him but it didn't faze him. Of course. Why should he be scared of little ol' me? Realizing he would hear about it on Wednesday anyway, I gave in. "Suicide watch."

His eyes widened a little, narrowed, and then darted down to my wrists. I fucking hated it when people did that. The word suicide comes up and people automatically look at the wrists. I mean, really. There's more than one way to kill yourself, people. But no, slashed wrists are the first thing that come to mind. It's just so fucking typical.

Taking advantage of his distraction, I jumped up and snatched the book out of his hand, crawling back onto the bed and curling up. "Now, if you please. I'd like to finish this chapter before they call us for dinner."

But as luck would have it, since I had none, he didn't leave. Instead, he sat back down on the bed, this time a little closer, on my other side, which really bugged me. "Can I..."

I glanced up to find him staring at me pleadingly, and I swear it nearly broke my heart. He looked so goddamn sad and...lost. All the hardness and tightness was gone and it shocked the hell out of me.

"Stay here? With you? Until then?"

He looked like such a lost little boy that my head acted of its own volition as it nodded. He shot me a grateful look and positioned himself next to me. It made me feel a little uncomfortable, I'm not going to lie. But, after a few minutes of silence, with him sitting there, not saying a word, not moving, I was able to read and ignore his presence somewhat.

Not even two minutes later, I felt a warm heavy weight on my shoulder. I sighed loudly and was about to tell him to get the fuck out, after knocking his head off me, when I turned to see he was sleeping. There was no way he fell asleep that fucking fast. "Jacob."

No response.

I shook him a little. "Jacob."

Still nothing.

I shook him a little more. "Jacob."

He burrowed into my shoulder more and wrapped his right arm around me. "Five more minutes, Mom."

Are you fucking kidding me? 

I let my book fall back against my knees and I turned to look at him once again. And what I saw amazed me.

He looked...peaceful, calm, beautiful even. Like none of the lines of worry he wore when he was awake ever existed. I wish I could explain it, it definitely is crazy, hmm maybe I do belong here, but watching him gave me some semblance of calm. Things didn't feel as dire and fucked up as they had for the last four days or even ten minutes ago. Yeah, it's insane but I'm in the loony bin, so what the hell?

I gently laid my head on top of his soft yet scruffy hair. His scent of earthiness--earth is the best way I can describe it--washed over me. Maybe woodsy is a better word. It calmed me instantly and I closed my eyes. This worked faster than any sedative the fuckers could force into my veins. Amazing.

I felt his deep and even breathing against me and before I knew it, my chest was slowly starting to synchronize its movements with his. So peaceful, so calm, the sounds of air making its way in and out of his lungs, like a lullaby written just for me.

I started to fall over that edge with him into slumber when a door opening loudly jerked me back to the real world. Jacob heard it, too, because he jolted upright and he retracted his arm quickly, rubbing his right eye, and tensed.

The nurse walked in and turned on the light, blinding both of us. What the fuck? I hate it when they do that. Usually, I just keep my little light on next to my bed. With the light from the window, there's no need for the bright fluorescent fuckstick glaring down at me right now. God, I hate this fucking place.

The nurse came into view and stopped short when she saw us. A stern frown appeared on her face. "Isabella, you know the rules. If you're going to have other patients and/or visitors in here, the door stays open."

I yawned. I was so sick of their bullshit. And they knew I hated it when my full name was used. They fucking knew it. "Yeah, sorry about that,  _ Diane _ . It got kind of loud before when Karen was complaining about her husband watching TV all the time and how he still won’t mow that lawn. So, since that situation seems not to have changed and she’s super annoying, I decided to tune it out and read. I wanted some quiet."

She scoffed at me and opened my chart, making notes. Probably ordering another round of drug-the-fuck-out-of-smartass-Swan no doubt. Whatever.

"You can have quiet, Isabella. But the door stays open." She then glanced at her watch. "Dinner should be in about half an hour. Right about the time I'll be making my rounds again so don't be getting any ideas." She glanced up at us, glaring. "And I  _ will _ be watching you."

She spun on her heel and left the room. And sure as shit, she took her seat at the Nurses' Station, facing my room, glaring at us. Boy, I sure had taken fucking curtains and blinds for granted, didn't I? Damn.

"Man, they sure don't like you, do they?"

I turned and that scowl was back on Jacob's face. It made my heart sink a little to see it but it brought reality crashing back in. "I don't really care. I certainly don't like them."

He nodded, still glaring at the window. "So, I guess, that's pretty much it. She's going to watch us until we leave the room."

I snorted, watching the old hag sneer back at us. "Pretty much."

He drew up his knees to his chest and rested his arms on them, looking over at me. The hardness and tight eyes were back. The little lost boy no longer sat in front of me. "So, you're a John Grisham fan, I take it?"

I shrugged and stared down at the book. "Not really. It's just better than all of the other books they had in there." I yawned again and copied his position, resting my forehead on my arms. 

I really wanted to sleep, of my own accord. And I had just been about to when that fucking bitch came in. If the worst I could do was nap during the hours I was supposed to be awake, then God help us all.

"Ever see the movie?"

I shook my head.

"Eh, you're not missing much. It's just Matt Damon and him helping some chick who gets beat up and stuff. Then the short guy helps him out with his first case or something. Kind of boring."

I turned my head to look at him. His eyes were focused on his knees, still glaring, but at what I couldn't figure out. "So, I take it you're not a Matt Damon fan then?"

He turned to look at me, that smirk back. "Oh no, I like some of his movies. I just prefer the action ones. Ever seen the Bourne Identity? Now, that film was kick-ass."

I rolled my eyes and laughed, turning back to stare at my own knees. "Typical guy. Loves his action movies."

I heard a slight chuckle beside me, a first for him. "Yeah, I do. I'd give anything to be watching it right now."

I turned back to him and stared. "Why? You're not blown away by the daily showing of On Golden Pond around here?"

He glanced up at the window and when he was satisfied that he wasn't being watched too closely, he turned to me and gave me a smile. "To see how to get the fuck out of here, of course."

I laughed again and went back to staring at my knees. "Yeah, that would be helpful."

A minute passed wordlessly. 

"So...we've got...twenty six minutes according to the old bag. What do you want to do?"

I slowly raised my head and glanced over at the window. Diane was still sitting there, facing us, but she was on the phone, clearly engaged on an important call. Probably some gossip fest with another nurse on another unit. 

I jumped off of the bed and turned the light off, catching the bitch's attention. She frowned at me but I just smiled and wiggled my fingers in a wave. There was nothing in the  _ rules _ stating that the overhead light needed to be on at all times. I climbed back onto the bed, next to Jacob, and cozied up to him again. Shockingly, I felt more comfortable with him now than I did when he had pulled such a move on me. I didn't know how to explain it, but I just felt...okay with him around. He didn’t appear to be dangerous like I once thought. He just seemed like a normal, moody, teenage boy. A teenage boy who just happened to be in the psych ward of a hospital along with me. Yeah, I didn't want to think about it right now. 

"I think you're about to become a John Grisham fan."

He groaned, making me chuckle, but melded his body against mine and settled in.

And sure enough, five minutes later, he was sleeping soundly against my shoulder. And the serene little boy was back at peace as was I.


End file.
